Emptying the contents of the condom in the toilet before discarding it in the trash, I do up my zipper before heading back out the bathroom door to meet my new friend.
"Did you just empty your come down the toilet?" She crosses her arms over her chest, nose scrunched up.
"The last thing I need is to be baby trapped, Blondie," I say as I check my appearance in the mirror before heading back downstairs.
"You don’t trust me?" Her voice is sarcastic, clearly annoyed.
"Respectfully, I don’t know you," I remind her without looking back.
"There you are," Robbie says, clapping his hand against my back. "Are you ready to head to the next bar? Jensen texted and said they were heading there now." His arm now rests over my shoulders and I’m even more in the mood to party than I was twenty minutes ago.
"Where are you hot shots going?" A drunk guy slurs from behind when our feet hit the pavement right outside The Globe. "The party’s only just beginning." Turning, we’re met with a group of five drunk men waiting for us, who don’t look like they’re wanting to celebrate.
One is sporting a black hoodie with his face completely on display, the rest are wearing balaclavas to hide theirs.
As a professional athlete, being approached in situations like this isn’t new to me. Especially if we just beat their favorite team. And given we just won the championships, I’m going to say these guys are fans of the Jaguars and not the Eagles.
"We don’t want any trouble," Robbie insists, putting his hand out for the man in front to shake, but he shoves it away.
"Well, that’s too bad. I was really hoping to beat some Eagle ass," he says as he takes a step forward.
He’s so close to me, I can smell the alcohol on his breath, and even though it’s dark, I will remember this guy’s face for the rest of my life.
"Get out of my face, asshole." I lightly shove him away, but he’s a big dude. He barely budges.
"Is that a threat?" he says through a clenched jaw.
Rolling my eyes, I turn my back toward him. "I don’t have time for this," I mutter as Robbie follows right behind me.
"Turn back to face me, you coward. I want to see your face while I fuck you up. I want to watch your blood as it runs all over the concrete."
"Oh, I’m so scared. Whatever will we do?" Robbie mocks, but before he can enjoy the moment, one of the masked men connects his fist with Robbie’s jaw and he nearly drops to the ground after one hit.
It’s officially five against two, and while we’re outnumbered, we still put up a hell of a fight.Robbie knocks one guy totally unconscious, leaving four men standing as the only one brave enough to show his face gives mine blow after blow, my arms pinned behind my back by two others.
"Take out his shoulder," one of the masked men growls, holding me still, but Robbie knocks him to the ground, forcing him to let me go, right as the owner of the bar swings the doors open.
Not my fucking shoulder.
"Monty, go the fuck home. The cops are on their way," she says, addressing him by name, providing the distraction I need at the exact moment I need it.
I lunge on top of him with my fist closed, connecting it with the side of his face. Once, twice, three times, and the back of his head collides into the ground with the last hit, and only then do I stop.
Whenhisblood is running all over the pavement.
My chest is heaving, trying to catch my breath while I kneel next to his limp, bloody body, more exhausted than I care to admit.
Not my fucking shoulder.
Thinking Robbie is the one to pull me off, I relax my body, falling from my knees to my ass, while I stare at the man named Monty. The man who threatened to take everything from me.
"Harley, behind you!" Robbie shouts from the left of me, and I have no time to defend myself. Forced down onto the concrete, my right arm pulled behind me, copping hit after hit with some kind of metal pole.
I can nearlyfeeland hear every bone in my shoulder shatter, and every muscle tear.
Not my fucking shoulder.
The pain is blinding. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
